Scent of a Woman
by Madam Torsion
Summary: Hannibal receives a visitor. One shot.


This is a bit of an odd thing that got stuck in my head when thinking about power dynamics in NBC's Hannibal. I wanted to introduce someone (or something) that would challenge his control, challenge his alpha status. A vampire seemed, to me, an obvious choice. Hannibal may think of himself as something other or even _more_ than human. I wanted to see what he would do if he was faced with something higher up in the food chain. This isn't listed as a crossover because it isn't a specific character or type, though the vampire cosmology is created from both True Blood (I say True Blood and not the Sookie Stackhouse novels because I've only watched the show) and the Vampire Chronicles (_LOOSELY! _ Please don't sue me!). I'd be interested to hear what people think of it.

* * *

Hannibal Lecter sat at the desk in his office, drawing. He had no more patients to see, no one to attend to; nothing but his own psyche, filling the page. He took a sip of wine and continued to draw. It was perhaps twenty minutes later, maybe longer, that his finely tuned nose picked up a new scent. It was something he had never smelled before. The gardenia hit his nose first. Perfume. Underneath it was something more primordial. The subtle tang of blood, but there was something more than that. A presence associated with the scent that was familiar and entirely alien all at the same time.

"I know you are here," he said into the semi-darkness. The small lamp on his desk did little more than illuminate the sketchbook in front of him. The only other light in the room came in through the long windows, where the streetlights outside cast long shafts of pale light across the floor.

"I'm glad," came a woman's voice. She stepped into one of the shafts of light. He could only make out her silhouette. "I'd have been disappointed if you didn't. I've heard ever so much about that nose of yours."

Hannibal stood and walked to a side table to switch on a lamp. She was behind him in an instant.

"What do you want?" He asked, slightly unnerved by the speed with which she moved. He didn't like being off balance. He turned around to face her, careful to keep his expression neutral.

"A great number of things," she answered with a sigh. "But for you, I have a proposition, shall we say."

Hannibal looked the woman over. She looked to be in her early or mid-thirties, but there was something old about her. Not in her looks, she was, he had to be honest, one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on, but in her eyes. In the way she carried herself. It was the kind of self-confidence one could spend a lifetime trying to achieve and never come close. He didn't tend to be drawn to people he perceived to be more powerful than himself, but she was different and he wanted to know why.

"A proposition?" He repeated. "Why should I be interested?"

"I know your secrets, Hannibal," she whispered. "I know who you want." She paused. "Who you eat."

She made a slurping noise at him. He stared at her, his face blank. She laughed.

"You can try to hide it from me all you want, dear, but I can see it. In your head, you're screaming it."

His eyes widened. That got a response. She found it intoxicating.

"You and I are quite alike, you know," she said, circling him like a predator around its cornered prey.

"Are we?" He asked, keeping his voice level. He hadn't felt out of his depth since he was a teenager, but this woman had sent him reeling in no more than a few minutes.

"I have certain…tastes, as well," she said lightly. He raised an eyebrow. "But I come by mine honestly."

"Don't we all?"

She laughed and wagged a finger at him.

"I had no choice," she said. It might have sounded pitiful coming from someone else, but she had embraced her identity. Enjoyed it.

"And who made the choice for you?"

She bared her teeth at him, allowing her fangs to extend. Hannibal took a step back. She could smell his fear and she reveled in it. This was not a man accustomed to fearing others.

"The one who made me," she answered simply, her fangs retracting with a click. The point had been made.

"You aren't real," Hannibal said, but his bravado was false. His reality had been shifted against his will.

"Would you like to test that theory?"

She began to circle him again.

"We could help one another, you know." She dragged her hand across his back as she walked behind him. He stood stock still. "I could make your work far less…messy."

"Blood is useful," he countered. He had never before said anything near so direct about his predilections and wasn't quite sure what had possessed to start doing so now.

"It is," she agreed. "And I have over two centuries of expertise in its use. Just think of what I could teach you."

She came around to face him, slowly moving towards him. Backing him up against a bookcase.

"Besides, we're both so brutal to the world," she said softly, pressing her body against his. "Don't you ever want something…softer?"

"Perhaps," he answered, his voice low.

The corners of her mouth curved up as she nuzzled her nose against his. Her hands slid up his chest to rest on his shoulders.

"I know what you want," she whispered. "I can see it in your head. But you can't kill me, Hannibal."

"I could," he insisted lightly.

She laughed softly and shook her head.

"I'm already dead, dear. You could destroy this body, but you can't kill me. That happened a long time ago."

"Stake through the heart?"

She pulled back to look him in the eye.

"Not unless you want to ruin this gorgeous suit of yours. And this office," she said. He narrowed his eyes in confusion. She had a feeling he wasn't often confused and enjoyed inflicting it on him. "Imagine a balloon, the same size as me, filled to bursting with blood. Now imagine sticking it with a pin."

He grimaced. Not on this suit.

She laughed again.

"There wouldn't be anything left for you to eat. And what a shame that would be."

Without another word, she brushed her lips against his, gauging his reaction. All she could see in his head was a man, but he seemed drawn to her all the same. She kept her face close to his. He didn't pull away, but he didn't make any move to kiss her. Was he still afraid of her? It was thrilling. She placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him full on the mouth. This time he responded.

After a moment she pulled back and hummed her satisfaction.

"I told you we could help one another." She gave him a self-satisfied smirk.

"And how would I help you?"

"Oh, Hannibal, let me count the ways," she said, pointedly looking him up and down. Her eyes settled on his neck, a vein twitched. "Oh not that, I don't think. You're a rarity. I don't kill endangered species."

Hannibal took on a boastful air and rolled his shoulders. She almost laughed at him. He was preening. She took it as a complement.

"You haven't told me your name," he said, beginning to feel more comfortable with this new knowledge of his.

"No, I haven't," she agreed. She turned to look out the window. It was a long time until dawn, but she needed to feed. Besides, she'd done what she had come to do. The line was cast and the bait offered. She faced Hannibal again. "Look for me."

His brow furrowed.

"Use that pretty head of yours," she taunted him.

With that, she was gone. He'd heard the door shut, but she had moved even more quickly than he was capable of detecting. He let out a breath. Time to go digging. He had two centuries of the historical record to wade through before she would return. And she would, he was sure of it. He could smell it on her.


End file.
